Above Photo From Here

It’s 5:26pm right now.  Or at least right now as I sit down to write this, not right now as you’re reading it. You’re not THAT high. At least most of you (probably) aren’t. The reason the time is relevant is that I started drafting this during what was a light just-after-the-holidays-and-before-everything-is-fully-back-in-the-swing-of-things workday, but still a workday nonetheless.  And 5:26pm is the time I finally brought myself to work out and shower.

I can tell myself it’s because I deserve more of a break coming back from visiting my family. I can tell myself, legitimately and credibly even, that this cough and head cold is taking me out and I need the rest. I can tell myself it’s because the to-do list is really fucking long, and that shit can be really overwhelming to me and lead me to not want to start at all. I can tell myself all sorts of things. But the truth is the biggest reason I laid in bed most of the day and didn’t bother to do the things I know make me feel better is because of that horrid bitch, depression.

So rather than spiral further into the melancholia, let’s bring back an old friend: THIS WEEK IN FUCK YOU.  And it will be an homage/remix/head nod to the OG TWIFY post from our friend Xmas Ape. And a bonus hearty FUCK YOU to UPROXX for making it you can’t read 90% of old KSK posts without going through the wayback machine.

Anyhoodles, I’ve written before that Ape’s post on depression is what turned me from a quasi-lurker/open thread kommenter into a full fledged member of an actual community of imaginary friends. Now more than ever, with snow falling outside my window and the coming civic calendar contrasting Jimmy Carter lying in state with the second chumming of Grover Cleveland ready to be sworn in on a copy of mein kampf, it feels justified to be depressed. But it being justified doesn’t mean it’s something to accept.

As Ape wrote:

There are some who romanticize the idea of depression as an essential rite for those in creative fields. It’s an association that has persisted through the ages, even dating back to classical literature. Every once in a while in online writers forums, you’ll see this John Dryden quote from “Absalom and Achitophel” proudly displayed:

Great wits are sure to madness near allied,
And thin partitions do their bounds divide.

It’s a horseshit sentiment. Yeah, you heard me, John Dryden. I know because I used to try to convince myself of that in my worst times. “I feel like shit because the world sucks and other people have done this to me. At least I’m smart enough to realize that. One day all this misery and wallowing will make me stronger, better!” Depression is a good self-promoter like that.

Depression sucks.

It makes us doubt ourselves to our cores.

It takes kind souls from us prematurely.

And it can rear its ugly head in different ways on different days.

One of the ways my depression often manifests–especially since 2020–is the inability to finish even basic tasks. So it’s no surprise that I….did not finish this post within two weeks of setting out to get it done and in the content bin for a slow day. But I’m back on it. And honestly, I’ve had some pretty damn good days since I started working on this post. I’ve also had some very escapist ones. The dark ones, though….those are the hardest. It’s not sexy, it’s not a boon to creativity, it just sucks. And I mean that literally and figuratively.  The bluest days suck out all the light and energy. They make it nigh impossible to get out of bed, to work out, to finish a dick joke blog post, to function at anything beyond a basic level.

As noted and implied above, depression isn’t one size fits all, whether that’s from person-to-person or day-to-day for an individual. Sometimes it’s fine (or fine-ish) and other times it is soul crushing. There’s no one “right” way to manage it.  I unfortunately now have a lot of experience dealing with my own depression and that of friends and other loved ones. Ape was right when he said it’s bullshit that the sadness makes you stronger. It just makes you more adept at dealing with it. That means some days saying “hey, it’s ok if I can’t get fuck all done today” and other days saying “nah, get your fat ass out of bed and onto the bike or outside for a walk around the block so you can actually get a modicum of momentum to start turning this warship.”  Some days you can be ok by yourself, and on others the loneliness is so heavy that you can feel it weighing you down as if there were real sinew, flesh, and fat of another perched atop your chest and pressing down, crushing you until you can’t even tell it or yourself that you need it to stop.  Those other days are when it’s critical to look beyond the mirror and say FUCK YOU, DEPRESSION since Depression will otherwise trick you into saying “Fuck you, me, this is your fault you stupid piece of shit.”

That voice, in whatever form it might take for you, can be hard to quiet. In fact, I often find myself looking for ways to drown it out rather than shut it down. I’m not at a place where I’m able to talk to it, reason with it, and get it to pipe down for a while. I hope that I can someday. But whether or not I can, what helps is knowing that the voice isn’t mine and isn’t me, and that I’m better than I feel like I am on my worst day, and that no matter what, I’m not alone. And neither are any of you. At a very minimum, you have imaginary internet friends who know you are a helluva lot better than the voice inside your head may lie and say you are. Which is why all of us can say with a healthy communal voice FUCK YOU, DEPRESSION.